


sinking inside yourself

by Kingscunt, OnFrailMyths (Kingscunt)



Category: Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: Angst, M/M, Not A Fix-It, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, but I spent too long to chuck it, this is awful lmao
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-11
Updated: 2017-07-11
Packaged: 2018-12-01 01:16:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11475546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kingscunt/pseuds/Kingscunt, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kingscunt/pseuds/OnFrailMyths
Summary: another awful drabble of post v-day harry. prepare for feels





	sinking inside yourself

**Author's Note:**

> kingscunt.tumblr.com
> 
> https://youtube.com/watch?v=6MZgCfAz8eg

The glass crashes down onto the table with a hard thud. He sighs, and rubs his temples, trying to relieve the pain rushing through his skull. The eyepatch is much too tight over his head, digging into the still fresh scar. 

He pours another glass of whiskey. Well, the last remaining drop from the bottle. 

Harry had not been coping well since his brush with death. His mind is a minefield - there was no telling when another panic attack would happen, another flashback would grip him, with no way to stop it but endure it and hope it wouldn't last long. They always did. They always do.

Becoming a support agent hadn't helped in the slightest. After all, what's the point? Harry's life is protecting his country. Sure, he is still doing that by being a support - but he yearns for that feeling of being on the field. Just one operation, he begs Merlin. 

"You're much too fragile, Harry."

He's going downhill. Hell, it's even showing now. At first, he can hide it, masking the emotional battering with the same sharp, crisp suits and dry humour. As the days go by, he feels the will to live slip more and more. He stops dressing in his best suits. He stops giving a fuck about that goddamn job. 

He looks, frankly, a state. He sits at the table in a stained cardigan and crumpled bottoms. He hasn't bothered shaving in the last week or two. There are bags under his eyes from the lack of sleep, maybe because of the vivid nightmares that plague him every night. 

He self medicates with drink. It's the only thing that takes the edge off. Mask the agonising pain both physically... and mentally. 

Of course the others at the HQ can see him going downhill. Merlin is worried sick... There's no telling what the man can do in this state. He desperately wishes Harry could adjust to this new life, but then again, he can understand why the man is finding it so hard. After all, being a field agent is all Harry has ever known. 

Eggsy tries his best to cheer Harry up. But the silly jokes and pranks that once made the older man laugh just grate on him now, and while once he felt a deep fondness for Eggsy, he can only feel bitterness and resentment now. Is it because he's jealous? Eggsy's one of the best agents the organisation has. 

Harry was once one of the best. 

He's nothing now. A shell of who he used to be. 

He downs the last of his drink, feeling the hazy effects of the alcohol. If he wasn't drunk before, he certainly is now. He focuses on the photo of him and Eggsy that's sitting on the wall - the younger man had got it printed and framed just after Harry woke up from that god awful coma in the hospital. The photo is, admittedly, sweet. Eggsy is in the front, grinning madly as usual, while Harry is caught off guard smiling, for once. 

He remembers unwrapping it in the hospital bed, and seeing Eggsy's massive smile. "Favourite photo of us," he said, "You should smile more, you grumpy git." 

Oh, if only it were that easy. 

The truth is, he can't think of anything worth living for anymore. He lost his job, his happiness... Hell, the one he cared about most is the one he bitterly resents. He doesn't even know why - maybe that's what hurts the most. 

He stumbles to the bathroom, and slumps down against the wall, fumbling for his phone. There's a text, sent an hour ago, from Eggsy. 

"hey, haz. i know ur feeling down lately and u ain't been at work - alright to come over?"

He sighs. 

"Alright."

He drops the phone on the floor, immediately regretting it. The thud echoes, much like the sound of the bullet before it hit Harry in the eye. Panic sets in.

Harry sits there, gripped by the painful visions of his flashback. He can't tell if he's sweating or if he's crying - either way, the terror locks him, unable to move. 

He can't tell how long it lasts, but it must be a while, when Eggsy knocks on the bathroom door. Fuck. He remembers Eggsy still has the spare key from when he used to come and change the older man's bandages during the healing process.

He tries to breathe, but every breath is like inhaling razors. It's agonising. He pushes himself up, and stumbles to the door to unlock it, fumbling with the lock with his shaky hands. He slumps back down, having no energy to stay upright any longer.

Eggsy immediately throws the door open, and swallows. He wasn't expecting this.

"Fuck me, Harry mate, you're a mess."

Harry doesn't reply. He's too busy trying to regulate his breathing. Not that it works very well. 

Eggsy kneels down in front of Harry. "Deep breaths. Yea, that's it. Like that. You're doing great."

"I'll be fine." Harry gasps. 

"No the fuck you ain't." Eggsy retorts. "Look at you Harry. No offense, but you look like shit." 

At least his breathing was fairly normal now. Harry throws his head back, fed up with life. 

"That's a lovely thing to say, Eggsy. Thank you." His voice drips with sarcasm. 

Eggsy rolls his eyes. Genuine concern flashes through his face. "Seriously Harry, this ain't like you. You ain't okay. Please, talk to me. I'm worried about you."

Harry looks at him, and is met back with Eggsy's wide, shiny eyes. He looks scared... Why is he the one scared? He didn't nearly lose his fucking life.

"I'm not going to lie, I just don't feel like this life is worth living anymore."

"What? Why-"

"Why the fuck do you think, Eggsy? I nearly died. I'm in constant pain, I have constant migraines and I can't even walk long distances anymore. I lost my job, I lost most of my friends because they're always on field. I lost everything, so what's the point? There's nothing here for me. I have no place here." Harry spits, shaking once again, this time, from anger. 

Eggsy doesn't flinch. His expression doesn't change. Instead, he gently puts his arm round Harry, ignoring the flinch from his touch.

"You didn't lose me."

"I may as well have." 

"Do you really mean that?" Harry feels the pain in Eggsy's voice then. Fuck. He can't help feeling guilty. Yet he doesn't respond - his mind is too cramped with... Well, everything.

"Whether you did or not, I'm here for you, Harry. I can't tell something ain't right, you're sinking inside yourself. Fading away. I hate watching it. I care about you a lot, yknow. And I ain't letting ya do nothing stupid to yourself. I can't bear the thought of losing you." At this point, Eggsy is tearing up himself.

Harry can't help but feel good about that. At least he can feel a fraction of Harry's pain. Maybe he's selfish, but at this point, he doesn't give a damn. 

Maybe he truly has given up. His old self would never be happy about someone being hurt. 

"Eggsy, just fuck off."

The boys face really does crumple then. He stands up, and walks out, slamming the door behind him. Maybe he should feel guilty. Maybe he should feel something.

Maybe he has truly given up.


End file.
